


Fight Those Fears Son

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [36]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Gen, Scared Dean Winchester, Scared Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: This is a long over-due prompt I finally got around to writing.Dean and Sam are afraid of thunderstorms, and John’s advice to get over their fears ends in disastrous results.





	Fight Those Fears Son

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is Dean’s Girl. I finally did your fear prompt. I hope you like it. :) Maybe it will even make you laugh.

Fight those Fears Son. 

 

Dean 9

Sam 5

 

Sam flips onto his back, turns his head to look at the radio alarm on the nightstand. Two fifteen blinks back at him, the numbers shimmering a disturbingly radioactive shade of green. He sighs and closes his eyes, the glowing afterimage a jumble of squiggles burned onto his retina. 

 

He wasn’t even tired, but Dean told him to go to bed. Now it was really late, and Sam still couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just because he had those extra sugar cookies either, no, Sam couldn’t sleep because outside the motel there was a raging storm going on. 

 

It was almost two thirty in the morning and Dean had barely gotten any sleep. He had been kept awake by fear and resentment. 

 

Just hours before his Dad left, they got into a fight about how Dean needed to ‘man up’ and stop flinching every time a gun goes off. 

 

“It’s part of the job, son. You need to get used to it.” John had said, handing Dean another loaded rifle. 

 

“But Dad. It’s so much louder than a pistol. It’s really scary.” 

 

And that was Dean’s fatal mistake. At this age, nothing was supposed to scare him anymore. Not gun shots, not monsters, and certainly not thunderstorms. 

 

There was one thing that Dean always found scary. Thunderstorms. He hated them. And even though he tried being suave and charming, fake like usual, with his Dad, he couldn't help the worried look that appear on his face right now. 

 

“What the heck is wrong with me!?' He scrambled up to get out of bed but soon heard another round of thunder strike outside. 

He jumped, sliding quickly back under his covers and hiding for a minute before realizing how childish this was. He had his hands covering his head like he was being beaten. And he was curled in a ball trembling underneath his bed sheets.

Suddenly the door opened without a knock or a 'can I come in?', just the knob turning and the door opening in seconds. No time for Dean to scramble to grab a weapon in that amount of time.

He bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly, until he heard Sam. 

“Dean? Can I sleep in here tonight?” 

 

Yes, Dean welcomed that. He wanted that so badly. But he played it cool. 

 

“Sure, hop in. Is the storm scaring you?”

 

Sam nodded sheepishly. He climbed into the bed and rested his head against the pillows. Dean load beside him. 

 

“You know it can’t hurt you, right?” Dean asked, searching his brother’s eyes. 

 

The next round of thunder and lighting hit the small town in Arkansas, and Dean flinched next to Sam, his breathing coming out shuttered. 

 

“Dean? Are you okay?” Sam asked. 

 

Of course Dean was okay. It’s silly to be scared of a thunderstorm. If his Dad knew about this Dean would have to train for weeks in the rain or something, he was sure of it. 

 

But as the fear of thunder and lightning clouded his mind, he didn’t have time to think about his Dad at the moment. Because his Dad wasn’t there. He was nine years old and he was all alone. So yeah, he was a little scared. 

 

He still had no idea where this fear had come from, or why he was so afraid of the thunder and lightning, but Dean didn’t really care. He just wanted to feel safe. 

 

How nice would that be. But Dean never felt safe. Ever. Not when he knows what’s really out there. He can’t possibly feel safe, and somehow when it storms, Dean feels like the Demons of the world are rumbling the earth in an evil plot to take over the world. 

 

He knows that is not true, but it doesn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest. 

 

“Dean, can you talk to me?" Sam asked gently, slowly letting go of Dean’s knee and put his hand on his older brother’s back. 

 

Dean sighed. He was scared, but so was Sammy. And he had to be brave for Sammy. 

 

Outside the window, rain was falling heavily, and the bushes were rustling. Then Dean saw something. 

 

His eyes were glued to a figure a few meters ahead, it’s shadow falling as if it meant to hide. The shadow moved toward the house, but paused. Dean’s heartbeat quickened. He stood up quickly, looking for an escape route; but then remembered his Father’s words. 

 

“You have to fight those fears, son.” 

 

“I have to fight it,” Dean thought, grabbing a weapon from under his bed. Sam’s eyes went wide as he watched his older brother carry a gun. 

 

“Dean, what are you doing?” 

 

“Shhh.” Dean whispered harshly, “Keeping you safe. Don’t move.” 

 

He tip-toed into the motel living room, and waited right in front of the door. 

 

Slowly, the door opened, and Dean didn’t have time to see who it was, before the figure tried to attack him, wrestling the gun out of his hand. 

 

Dean wasn’t going down without a fight. The gun was in between him and the perpetrator. As the fight continued, the shotgun bumped hard against the couch’s arm and went off. 

 

The boom was incredibly loud in the confined space and both Sam and Dean screamed in fright. The salt rock rounds hit the mirror above the mantle with precision, shattering the glass into a million tiny shards that spilled over the mantle top and adjacent floor. 

 

“Son of a bitch!” Someone cried out, but it wasn’t Dean. The shadow flipped on the lights. 

 

“Dad?” Dean asked. 

 

“What the hell were you doing aiming a shotgun at me? Have you lost your mind?” John screamed. 

 

“I...I thought...you were a...someone bad.”

 

John frowned. He took a good look at his boy and noticed the bags under his eyes and just how shaky he was. John quickly wrapped his arms around Dean and comforted him. 

 

“You did the right thing, kid. Even if you almost shot me.” John praised. 

 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Dean seemed even more concerned now that he knew it was his father and not a creature. “The sound, I’m sure the motel manager heard.”

 

“Yeah, we need to make a midnight escape. Get your brother up. Tell him to pack his things.” 

 

Dean nodded, flinching slightly at the thunder. 


End file.
